


The King's Hound

by Permission



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alt Title: Coaches are mean to Hinata. Kageyama wields the wrath of God., Alternate Universe - Middle School, Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio Friendship, Hinata attends Kitagawa, Hinata crushes on Oikawa, Hinata doesn't suck at recieves anymore, I feel bad for giving Hinata haters, Multi, Oikawa and Hajime did not sign up for adopting two first years, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, ReluctantMentor!Iwaizumi, ReluctantMentor!Oikawa, Resentful!Hinata, Slow Burn, but the plot demands it, but this is happening whether they want it to or not, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27830146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Permission/pseuds/Permission
Summary: “Good Afternoon! My name is Hinata Shouyou, a new first year student at Kitagawa, and I’d like to join the volleyball team, please!”.Hinata was exited about the move! Really! Even leaving behind his newly made friends at Yukigaoka couldn't ruin his mood. After all, Kitagawa was known for their sports program, and they had an actual Volleyball club! He'd finally get to play in a real team! And there'd be other people just as obsessed with his favorite sport as him!Honestly, he failed to see any way that this could be ruined for him....In which Hinata changes schools half way through his first year of Junior High.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 35
Kudos: 125





	1. Chapter 1

‘ _Swimming Pool’_

_‘Tennis Courts’_

_‘Running Track’_

His sneakers squeaked against the tile as he anxiously made his way down the long corridor that linked the main building and the sports facilities. The flickering brightness of the ceiling’s light fixtures gave the empty hallway a disquieting feeling. It reminded the middle schooler of one of the horror movies Koji and Yukitaka had smuggled to one of their sleepovers. 

In it the ghost of a Cheerleader that haunted a school tried to murder the players of an American football team, seeking revenge for her death. It had been too scary for him, and so he’d spent the entire hour and a half with his face buried beneath the covers, but at least Koji had been kind enough to give him the summary of the movie afterwards. 

_‘Aikido’_

_‘Archery Range’_

Right now, however, Shouyou was confident he would be glad to be attacked by the spectral cheerleader if it meant he’d have an excuse to turn around and run in the other direction. The end of the long hallway was approaching, and with it, his destination.

_'First Gymnasium’_

The ginger stopped just short of the view of the Gym’s door. From here, he could hear the sound of sneakers squeaking against the waxed floors, the distinct _smack_ of volleyballs hitting the ground at high speeds. It wasn’t very strong all the way in the hallway, but he could even pick up a hint of the sweat of the players that should be at least half an hour into their practice time. 

Shouyou gripped the paper forms in his hand tighter, hearing them wrinkling. He’d procrastinated in the bathroom much longer than he’d anticipated, trying and failing to psyche himself up for this, but it seemed he was not going to magically gain a confidence boost that would carry him through the gym doors. No, it seemed like today he’d be standing on his own. 

Squaring his small shoulders, Hinata Shouyou took his first step onto the Kitagawa Daiichi Gymnasium floor. Anxiously tugging on his backpack’s straps, he scanned the robust crowd for the distinct appearance of the team’s coach. Quickly spotting a stocky, black-haired adult wearing a tracksuit, he took one more deep breath and let his feet carry him over to the bench.

_“Good Afternoon! My name is Hinata Shouyou, a new first year student at Kitagawa, and I’d like to join the volleyball team, please!”_

* * *

Kitagawa was different from Yukigaoka in practically every way. 

Firstly, it was a magnet school for middle school athletics. It had all sorts of sports; From swimming to soccer to archery. If it was a competitive sport for middle schoolers in Japan, Kitagawa most likely had a team for it. And not just any team, but _good_ ones. Teams that participated in national championships, that earned the school shiny trophies and medals.

Compared to Yukigaoka, which didn’t have half the number of sport teams as Kitagawa despite having a student body almost twice as big, well, it seemed only reasonable to Shouyou that he’d feel nervous about coming here. Not only as a new student, but as a _transfer half-way through the school year_.

He understood the need for him to be pulled from Yukigaoka despite the fact that he was just starting to feel a semblance of comfort in his old Junior High. His mother had been offered a hefty promotion by her boss, one that required her to be available at their main office at any time of day, six days a week. Even though their home back in the mountain had been the only place Shouyou could ever remember living in, it had -according to his mother- been “too good of an offer to pass up.” And so, the small family of three packed their belongings and moved to a modest three-bedroom home just outside of the Sendai downtown area.

It wasn’t too bad, Shouyou thought. Sure, they didn’t have the ample backyard space that was available in places further away from the city center, and he was no longer allowed to bike to school until his mother was confident he knew how to ride through much more heavily trafficked city streets. But it wasn’t all bad. After all, his new school actually had a proper volleyball team! And it was a really good one too! The only middle school name in the prefecture that came up more in conversation regarding sports was Shiratorizawa Junior High, and that was a super fancy private school! 

So yeah, Shouyou understood, and was even happy, about the turn of events. Sure, he might miss Koji and Yukitaka a ton, but they’d all promised to stay in touch! And Shouyou had even been given his first personal phone by his mother in order for them to do just that, so really, Shouyou didn’t think there was too much to complain about. Especially now that he had a real shot at joining a super cool volleyball team, just like he’d been dreaming of!

It had been scary enough walking into the school’s office for his orientation that morning and having to ask about sport clubs, nevermind having to find his way around the building once his student ambassador had deposited him in his new homeroom and left him to fend for his own. But now, standing in the gym after a full day of trying to navigate around the new school, he couldn’t help but feel a couple of twin sparks of hope and absolute terror burst inside his chest simultaneously. 

The impassive gaze of the coach lingered over Shouyou’s form. The boy was perfectly aware of the thought process flashing behind the man’s eyes. After all, standing at barely above 150 centimeters put Hinata far below the average height of a normal volleyball player, even for middle school.

The man, however, seemed to refuse to comment on the obvious, “Yukigaoka, huh? I don’t recall that school having a boy’s volleyball program.”

Shouyou attempted to keep a level tone of voice, but his nerves got the best of him and he ended up just short of shouting. “It does not! I was not in a volleyball team at my previous school!” Shoot! That was way too loud! Out of the corner of his eye Shouyou could spot the faces of some of the players turning from their practices and drills to see what the commotion was. Shouyou swallowed around a suddenly dry mouth.

The coach hummed in acknowledgement. Turning towards one of the clusters of boys to his left, he yelled. “Oikawa!” the face of one of the older-looking players suddenly turned their way, “Come over here for a second!” In a few lengthy strides the older boy had joined Shouyou and the coach. 

“Hinata, this here is Oikawa Tooru, our team captain,” then the coach proceeded to explain to the Captain the situation. The older boy’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Really? But you’re so short!!” Shouyou’s shoulders instinctively hunched around his ears at the comment. He was perfectly aware that he hadn’t hit his growth sprout yet, okay?! There was no need to rub it in!

Thankfully the coach intervened on Shouyou’s behalf, “That's enough Tooru. Now, take Hinata and help us figure out just what he’s capable of.”

“You got it coach Mori!” Turning towards Shouyou, the brunette quickly latched onto one of the first year’s arms and tugged him to an empty corner of the gym, “Come on shorty! Let’s see what you’ve got!” 

* * *

  
This wasn’t the first time Tooru had to assist in gauging the skills of his under classmates. At the start of the year he’d had to personally attend the tryouts of all the incoming first years in order to get a sense of the new roster of students joining the team. After all, as team captain it was his job to know them and understand how best to use them.

‘ _That’s a shit way to word that,’_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Hajime chimed in from the back of his brain, ‘ _They’re teammates, not handyman tools._ ’  
  


‘ _Oh yeah? Well,_ ’ Hajime may be right more often than not, but Tooru would be damned if he let his best friend win an argument that easily, even just a fake version of him that his brain made up, ‘ _You can criticize me all you want once you’re in charge of micromanaging all these kids. As captain I have to figure out how to get the most out of them, you know? Otherwise Kitagawa won’t stand a chance once you, me, and the rest of the third years leave.’_

The voice didn’t respond, but Tooru kept mulling over the conversation as he kept passing to the newbie. The kid kept having to run after balls he made bounce off in the wildest directions. Tooru was almost impressed at how bad the kid seemed to be at it. He’d heard the comment about never having played before, but this was certainly not another prodigy.

‘ _And honestly thank fuck for that,’_ Tooru begrudgingly admitted. He didn’t think he had the mental and emotional capacity to handle another brat that would wreak havoc on the team dynamic by having a skill set that demanded being put on the regulars rooster. He feared was just barely clinging on as the starter setter now that they had that Kageyama kid on the team. He wasn’t sure if he would have managed to keep the coach from switching him out if Tooru hadn’t already been given the title of team captain the previous year. Even now he swore he could see the hungry gleam in Coach Mori’s eyes whenever Kageyama demonstrated his talent, like he couldn’t wait to see him in a proper game.

That particular thought kept him up at night more often than he’d like to admit.

After the ginger went after a stray receive for what seemed like the hundredth time, Tooru decided that he’d seen enough, “Alright newby, I think that’s enough for now. I gotta hand it to you though! Even though we’ve had plenty of brand new recruits I didn’t think somebody who wanted to be Libero would still join despite not having a lick of receiving talent, hahah!” A new voice chimed in from his brain saying something about tact, but Tooru just ignored it for now. It wasn’t like the coach would mind too much if Tooru’s tact with the newbies was lacking. Tough love was the unofficial Kitagawa moto after all.

“Libero?” The newbie tilted his head in confusion, “But I don’t want to be a libero, captain.”

  
Tooru blinked. The shorty couldn’t _possibly_ want to be a setter too _-_

“Oh, I guess I didn’t mention it earlier, but I want to be the Ace!” Tooru would have laughed, but the ridiculousness of the comment was beyond laughter. The ginger’s tone of voice just sounded so _sincere,_ as if he had no idea about the importance of height when it came to playing volleyball. 

“Uhm, shorty, not to burst your bubble or anything, but you _do_ know you’re, uh, missing a few inches if your goal is to be a spiker, right?” Instead of deflating his words, however, the shorty’s stare only seemed to get more and more intense. Tooru began to feel a certain discomfort at being stared at by those eyes. 

_"_ But last year's ace for Karasuno High School wasn’t tall at all! They called him the Little Giant, and he even took the team to nationals too.”

Tooru was peripherally aware of the High School Volleyball circuit. Not having had the time to start looking at it too closely in preparation for entrance exams, at least he knew that Karasuno was the underdog school that had managed to break the monopoly Shiratorizawa High School -typical- seemed to have over the prefecture’s nationals spot over the last couple of years. He didn’t know who made up the team, but he supposed he’d take the kid at his word rather than try talking sense into him now. Coach could probably do a better job at it than him, after all. 

“Well shorty, if that’s the case then let’s see your jump height, shall we?"

* * *

  
“He wants to be a spiker??”

Tooru nodded at Coach Mori, “That’s what I said, but he just mentioned the new ace at Karasuno and how they were a similar height. I didn’t see merit in trying to correct him while he was already focused on trying to receive as it were.”

Coach Mori glanced back down at the list of notes Tooru had compiled with the first year’s scores. None of them were remarkable, although the captain had been gracious enough to make a note about the general good cheer, natural athleticism, and focus the newbie seemed to keep throughout the entire practice. They’d have to wait and see if it continued past his first day, but at least they were some good qualities amidst a basket full of mediocrity.

The Coach just sighted and pocketed the paper, “Well, I won’t turn him away since there’s no harm in having him be a part of the team, but I sincerely doubt he’ll stick around once he starts comparing himself to the rest of the team’s caliber. No amount of good cheer and determination is infinite, and he is starting later than everybody around him and with a severe height disadvantage. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him gone before the end of the semester, so don’t put too much stock into him, got it Oikawa?”

“Of course, Coach.”

Tooru bid his teacher goodbye and made his way to the locker room. An uneasy knot making itself known deep in his gut. 

‘ _You should have listened to me, shorty. There’s some things you just can’t fix, no matter how hard you work.’_


	2. Chapter 2

Shouyou panted as he dragged his feet over to the bench on the side of the court. His legs felt heavy and stiff with exhaustion and his lungs ached like never before, but there was a satisfied smile on his face.

It had been a grueling day of practice for the team. With their first practice match of the season coming up, the third years had decided to run a week’s worth of boot camp-like practices in order to get the team ready. For Hinata that had meant finally getting to do some of the more athletic drills the other team members often did instead of the beginner receiving drills he’d been stuck doing for the last three weeks. 

As frustrated as he was with the repetitiveness and seeming futility of the receiving and passing drills, he refused to give up on his efforts. He wasn’t going to throw in the towel now that he finally had his chance, even if he felt like he wasn’t getting any closer to his goal of being a spiker. 

So, he’d poured all of his energy into those practices and drills. He was still not all that good at receiving and passing, but at least he’d improved over the last few weeks. And now they were finally getting different drills! And they were all about stamina and speed, which Shouyou could _definitely_ get behind!

He couldn’t help but fantasize about getting to play in an official match. He could practically feel it already. He’d run up to the net, and before anybody else in the other team knew what was happening, he’d leap up, up in the air, smash the ball, and sco-!

“Hey Hinata! What’s up?” Hinata was yanked from his day dream by the voice of one of his fellow first years. Looking up, Oritsume was sitting by the waters, sweat dripping down his face just like Shouyou’s. As he approached the bench, Oritsume grabbed his water bottle and handed it over. Giving him a quick thanks, he took a seat next to his fellow first year. 

“Uhm, not much! Just need a water break before getting back to the drills!” They were meant to be running suicides next. His thighs’ protests for a break would have to be ignored for now. 

“Same here. The captain’s leg workouts are going to kill us all before we even get the chance to play a game, I swear. You’re doing really well catching up to all of us though! Keep up the good work and I’m sure they’ll let you take over as Libero for Tanji by our third year!” Shouyou frowned. _This conversation again…_

The ginger boy had honestly lost track of the amount of times people had assumed he was shooting for a libero position. He couldn’t really blame them, since the coach had him stuck practicing receives and other Libero drills. While all the other new teammates had had _months_ worth of different practices and drills, Shouyou had been forced to keep working on his basic technical skills with a heavy handed focus on his receiving and passing. It wasn’t the worst but…

“I want to be a spiker, actually!” He’d meant to keep his tone light-hearted but the exhaustion turned it into something more resentful. Predictably, Oritsume’s eyebrows shot up. 

“...but your height is-”

“Yeah! I know! But it’s not like it’s a requirement or anything!!! And I’ve been working on my jump in my freetime and I plan on getting my jump to be at least ten centimeters higher by the end of the year so I should be on par with all the other spikers on the team!” 

Oritsume’s doubt was evident on his face. Shouyou tried to ignore it, but a bulb of resentment was already taking root inside his chest. Why couldn’t anybody take him seriously when he said he could do it, damnit?! He knew he was short, and as much as it hurt to admit, he knew he wasn’t bound for a massive, last-minute growth spurt if his genetic pool had anything to say about it. He could do it, though! If other people could just stop _looking_ at him like that.

A new voice broke him out of his train of thought, “Relax dude! No need for that constipated face. It’s not like you’re missing out on much at the moment anyways. All us other first-years are doing is practice with working together. At least you don’t have to deal with us while they have you running receiving drills.”

Shouyou turned his head towards the newcomer. It was one of the first years he hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet. Remembering his manners, he quickly bowed his head in greeting and introduced himself, “Hi there, sorry you saw that! My name is Hinata Shouyou, nice to meet you!”

The newcomer rubbed the back of their neck sheepishly, “Oh yeah, nice to formally meet you. I’m Kindaichi.” Now that he’d reached the benches, Kindaichi’s massive figure towered over Shouyou’s seated form. His grip on his water bottle tightened. It wasn’t a new experience for him, feeling dwarfed by his teammates, but it never stopped from making him feel even smaller than he already was. Frustrated, Shouyou jumped up from the bench and leapt back up onto his feet, thighs whining with every flex of his legs’ muscles. 

“So what do you mean about dealing with the other first years? So far all of you guys that I’ve met seem really nice!” Kindaichi crossed his arms. 

“Uhm, well you know, nobody is _mean_ per say, but some of them are just so pretentious and annoying, you know?” Shouyou’s eyebrows creased in confusion. From what he’d seen none of the other first years had done anything to merit being called annoying, nevermind _pretentious_.

“Don’t mind him, Hinata. He’s just jealous ‘cuz Kageyama keeps showing him up,” Oritsume chimed back into the conversation. Kindaichi’s face twisted into a scowl.

“I’m not jealous! And Kageyama _is_ annoying! Don’t act like he hasn’t also looked at you like you’re stupid when you miss a toss or don’t catch a ball!”

Oritsume frowned at the comment, but didn’t respond. Opting instead to take another sip from his water bottle. 

Hinata meanwhile tried to recall if he’d met a first year called Kageyama yet but couldn’t be certain. He was terrible with names. “I don’t think I’ve met him yet. What does he look like?” 

Kindaichi’s head titled towards the cluster of first years huddled by the net, waiting their turn on the current drill, “He’s by the front of the line, with the black hair and the bangs?” 

Shouyou looked at the boy, who despite facing their way was so focused on the ball as it was about to come to him that he didn’t even notice the three first years all turning and looking at him. He didn’t look like much, just another middle schooler with higher than normal height. Those were a dime a dozen during volleyball practices, really. 

“Well, he doesn’t look particularly mean, but I guess I’ll take your word for it Kindaichi,” Hinata finally decided he’d had enough of a break. Capping his bottle and putting it back on the bench, he patted Kindaichi in the back as he jogged back on the court where the suicides were about to start shortly, “Don’t take too long! Or coach and the captain are going to get in your case about slacking off!”

And with that, Hinata was immersed back into the practice. No room to focus on anything other than where the ball was and how fast could he get to it. Too focused to notice, somewhere back in the bench the sound of the voice of a rather dashing third year rang out.

“My, my. I sure hope you two first years are well rested because if you can take this long getting water I’m assuming you’re good to run an extra set of suicides after practice to make up for lost time, correct?”

“Y-yes, captain!”

“Wonderful! I’ll see you then. Now get back in line!”

  
  


* * *

Sliding into his seat the next morning, Shouyou let his eyes scan the homeroom he’d been a part of for the last month. 

Their sensei hadn’t arrived yet, but most of the students had already found their way to their seats or were waiting for class to start by their friends desks. From his spot near the center of the classroom, Shouyou couldn’t see a single student who seemed lonely. The few people sitting by their lonesome either working on some homework probably due by the time the bell rang, or on their own phones, listening to music or scrolling through social media. Everybody seemed settled and content with their situation.

Everybody except Shouyou. 

Hinata knew being the new kid so far into the term wouldn’t be a pleasant experience. He’d hoped that’d be somewhat offset by the presence of an actual volleyball team.

After his Mom had let him know that they would be moving, but before he had started at Kitagawa, Shouyou had daydreamed of making fast friends with the rest of the first years on the volleyball team. They’d bond over their shared love of Hinata’s absolute favorite sport, and they’d all become the sort of life-long friends Shouyou had craved long before volleyball had come into his life. 

The ginger boy had always wanted the type of friendship one saw every so often between people who’d known each other for _years_ . The people who had no blood or family relations, yet could act like siblings. It was one of the things Shouyou had always been deeply _hungry_ for, for as long as he could remember. 

Once Natsu had been born, he’d briefly hoped a sibling would be the answer to his craving for unconditional companionship and friendship, but Natsu was still four. As much as he loved his little sister, there were very few things he could do with her that put them on equal standing. More often than not, he was much more of a dotting caretaker than a friend to the toddler.

And once volleyball had come into the picture, Hinata was certain his forever friends would have to be at least a little bit in love with the sport, because most days Shouyou felt like the only things that he could care to talk about had something to do with the sport, and he didn’t think he could compromise on that front. 

And so he was stuck. Nobody in his class had shown any interest in becoming friends with him, he was a little too shy to impose himself on random classmates without some sort of _in_ , and although they had all been cordial, he didn’t think anybody in the volleyball team thought much of him. Sure, everybody had been pretty polite so far, but an undercurrent of apathy had been constant in every interaction with his teammates. They never said anything about it, but Hinata wasn’t stupid. He knew they thought he was obnoxious and annoying, and they didn’t think he’d accomplish half of the things he kept declaring boldly.

For the millionth time Shouyou cursed his height. There wasn’t anything he could do about it, but that shouldn’t mean he couldn’t accomplish his goal of becoming a spiker. He’d witnessed somebody blazing that trail just in the last year. He _knew_ it was doable. He just needed other people to catch on so that they could get with the program too. If they could see that his goals weren’t some sort of pipedream then maybe they wouldn’t think so poorly of him. 

At least, he hoped that’d be enough.

It would be.

It had to. 

As the bell rang and their sensei strolled into the classroom, Shouyou clutched the edge of his seat.

It had to. 

  
  


* * *

The gymnasium of the new school was much colder than Kitagawa’s own First Gymnasium, Shouyou couldn’t help but notice. Seated by the small set of bleachers off to the side of the court, the first year tucked his knobby knees tightly up against his chest and wrapped his arms, covered by the thin sleeves of the P.E. uniform’s jacket all the way around them. 

They were at yet another new middle school, playing a practice game in preparation for the fall qualifier season. Down in the court the first string players were facing off against yet another middle school team. Hinata would have been awed by the way Kitagawa seemed to flawlessly rip into the other team if the cold wasn’t making his teeth chattering rattle his skull and if it wasn’t exactly the same scenario as the last three practice matches they’d attended. 

As usual, the Kitagawa team, mostly composed of third-years and a few especially talented second years, were relentless as they absolutely obliterated the subpar defense on the opposite side of the court. Between Oikawa-sempai’s killer serves and Iwaizumi senpai’s ruthless spikes the other team seemed already resigned to the outcome of the match despite only being in the first half of the second set. 

Hinata could only sigh in longing and rub his thin polyester sleeves against his freezing shins as he got to witness the dynamic duo of his upperclassmen completely drive the entire match into an early grave. Looking at the way Iwaizumi senpai would leap up right behind the captain and absolutely blow the blocks of the other team away like they were made of wet paper would probably never get tiring for Shouyou, but after two weeks of only getting to watch and not participate it was getting exhausting just sitting and observing instead of getting to play.

But he couldn’t complain. With such a large team as the Kitagawa Boys’ Volleyball team, it was practically impossible to get to play even in a practice game as a first year. Mostly, all they were allowed to do was participate in practice, attend the practice matches purely as spectators, and then take care of all the cleanup once games were done. _Right of passage,_ he’d heard one of the second years frame it as. In all honestly it wasn’t even unfair, but still, Shouyou couldn’t help but _long_ for his opportunity to be on the court for once. 

Glancing to his left, the rest of the first years on the team were scattered across the benches, mostly in groups of two or three. Similarly to Shouyou, they were also mostly over the usual spectacle of watching the third years absolutely crush the opposition, and now seemed mostly happy to just chat through their time on the bleachers while the upperclassmen did their thing. 

Shouyou considered trying to talk to one of the little groups, maybe see if he could insert himself into one of their conversations, but between the painful grip of the gym’s air-conditioning and his simmering fear of being rejected, he decided to just stay in his spot, arms continuously rubbing against his goose-flesh-covered legs.

Down on the court, a chorus of “Nice kill!” sprouted forth as Iwaizumi-sempai landed from a spike that seemed to leave the heads of the blockers before him spinning. Captain Oikawa even leapt unto the unsuspecting back of the Outside Hitter in celebration, sending them both crashing towards the floor of the court in a heap of white and blue limbs. The coach’s voice rang across the gymnasium floor, reprimanding the upperclassmen for messing around in the middle of a set. Both senior’s voices responded with unconvincing apologies as they got back on their feet and returned to their positions. 

Shouyou’s warm breath graced the top of the freezing skin of his knees. Maybe he’d ask his mother if she could buy him one of the official school hoodies to wear over his uniform. That should keep him from freezing to death in their next practice game.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Tooru wiped the sweat off of his brow as the next boy took their spot to practice receiving his serve. 

They were a month into their spring game season, and for practice that day the coach had requested a heavier focus on defense, which according to him was apparently the team’s weaker aspect. 

Tooru couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction at that.  _ Of course _ defense was weaker than their offense. How could it  _ not be _ when the team had Tooru and Hajime to handle their offensive edge?

Their attacks really were better than ever this year. Their teamwork reached a level that Tooru would pit against any other setter-and-ace duo in the middle school volleyball circuit. It was the best feeling during a game, setting a particularly tricky receive perfectly just to watch Iwa-chan kill it right in the face of the opposite team’s face. Only rivaled by the feeling of a service ace, really.

Even the other hitters in the team were outdoing themselves in comparison to last year. A warm sense of pride flared up inside Tooru. This is what a team under his leadership looked like. This is what he was capable of. 

_ And I bet Shiratorizawa is not even half as well off with Ushijima leading them this year. _

Tooru couldn’t even begin to imagine what having that freaky robot at the helm of the team would look like. Did he even remember that other players needed breaks? Tooru wondered. Or did he just keep going until nobody but him were left standing?

_ Yeah _ , the captain of Kitagawa’s boys’ volleyball team couldn’t help but gloat,  _ this year is finally going to be our turn to crush them like the insects they are- _

“Hey! _ Shittykawa _ !” An object collided with the back of Tooru’s head, almost sending him to the ground. Almost. 

_ Ahh _ , Hajime caught him getting distracted.  _ Oops~! _ ”What do you think you’re doing?! Stop daydreaming in the middle of practice and get back to work!” Tooru turned towards his best friend, who was also setting for the underclassmen on the left side of the court. Tooru just chuckled lightheartedly. 

“You’re so  _ mean _ , Iwa-chan! This is abuse!” Sticking his tongue out at the quick-tempered Ace probably wasn’t the best idea, Tooru reflected, but the setter’d be  _ damned  _ if it wasn’t hilarious watching the way his best friend could go from the steady and reliable upperclassman that the rest of the team knew him as, to the same easily-flustered brat that they both knew he’d been ever since they were kids. 

A deep voice cut through the gym, “Iwaizumi! Oikawa! Back to work!” Tooru’s spine straightened on reflex at the scream from the bench. His eyes met Hajime’s, both sets widening in fear.

“Yes Sir!” their voices chorused as one. Quickly turning back to the line of underclassmen waiting on him to give them the go ahead to pass him the ball once more, Tooru rapidly busied himself in his job for practice for the day. Nobody wanted to be on the coach's bad side. 

Coach Mori was notorious for being a hard taskmaster. Out of all the middle school coaches, he was definitely the one famous for his strictness and expectations for his team. However, Tooru couldn’t complain. The man’s dedication to his team and their success was evident to all, especially to his players.

Tooru remembered in his second year when they’d won their biggest local tournament yet. He could still feel how elated they had all been, but especially the third years, proud of where they’d taken the team. Coach Mori had taken one look at his team and herded them all to the buses, but instead of dismissing them as they got back to their school, he had unlocked the doors to the gymnasium and made everybody sit before him. 

“ _ The only reason you lot won was because Chidoriyama lacked teamwork.” _

A hush had settled over the startled team. Hadn’t they done well enough? They’d won first place and had crushed the majority of their opponents that week with straight sets. Sure, Chidoriyama had been difficult, but did they really need to be reprimanded right now?

“ _ Shino, _ ” the third year’s head shot up at the sound of his name, “ _ Tell me, what do you think would have happened in the game if their Libero and that blonde middle blocker hadn’t been so out of sink? _ ” The third year gulped and looked down at his lap.

“ _ Uhm, I guess they would have dug up more balls? _ ” The coach’s eyes visibly narrowed at the hesitant tone of the upperclassman, but let it slide.

“ _ And what would that have meant for the outcome of the match then? _ ” Nobody answered the coach. They all felt like toddlers having been caught drawing on the walls. Was it really so bad though? They had no more games to play in the tournament. Why did he need to bring them down like this?

The resigned voice of their captain that year answered, “ _We may not have won the match, sir._ ”

Coach Mori’s brow wrinkled even more, “ _ No  _ may  _ about it, Nagai. Right now, in a one-on-one comparison between both of our team’s players, Chidoriyama has the best team. Their Liberos have always been the stuff of nightmares, and their pinch server this year is incredible. If they’d spent half as much time working on coordinating just the regular roster as they did in individualized training, you lot would have been toast by the second set, I guarantee it. _ ”

The team begrudgingly chewed on that thought. The coach wasn’t wrong. 

Winning against a team so full of potential had felt like a major accomplishment a second ago, but now it only made their victory a bitter memory. 

It wasn’t really their team that had won the game. It had been the other team’s coaching that had lost Chidoriyama the match. 

After a moment of letting the team stew in their disappointment, the coach broke the silence, “Your skills are all good, no doubt about it. Otherwise I wouldn’t have given any one of you a jersey with the school name. But if you take anything away from this match, from this tournament, let it be that none of you won or lost a match. The team did.” And with that, he dismissed them for the day. 

Tooru had yet to forget the anger he’d felt towards his coach as he and Hajime walked back home in silence. They should have been bouncing off the pavement in joy, eager to share the news of their victory with their families, but the coach’s words seemed stuck, resonating inside his skull. Overlapped by every example of the game that he could recall where a simple improvement in the insanely talented opposing team’s cooperation could have cost them the few precious points by which they won the last set. 

It had been odd, Tooru recalled. That day had not magically made the team suddenly become significantly more invested in their teamwork, but it felt to Tooru like something more important had happened. He’d gone home that day expecting to feel downtrodden and angry for the rest of the weekend, but instead found himself itching to cross the street to go see Hajime to ask to practice together late into the night. Something he usually only did on the rare occasion that they lost a match.

Coach Mori may not be the nicest, or the most dotting, but Tooru had never doubted his calls. When the man had appointed him team Captain shortly after, the setter had decided to uphold the Coach’s philosophy on teamwork to the best of his abilities. And now, a little more than half a year after that, the team was working like a well oiled machine, all the cogs shiny and slick and better than ever. 

A ball flying his way derailed Tooru’s prideful train of thought. He focused his gaze back on the other side of the net. 

As the next underclassmen got into position, Tooru absentmindedly scanned the line of first years before him. He went over their strengths and weaknesses as he lined up for his next serve.

The year had been particularly good in terms of the number of applicants for the team. Overall, from the crop of boys that joined at the beginning of the year, more than half had stuck around. With a total of six first years in the team, they were bound to have plenty of people to fill in for the seniors once graduation came around. All six of them seemed to be coming along slowly but surely. 

Directly before him, waiting for his serve, Kindaichi was proving to be coming along nicely as an opposite hitter or middle blocker. There had been a few weeks in the beginning where he’d seemingly struggled coming to terms with not being the best at setting practice, but well…

Directly behind him, Kageyama stood, seemingly not paying attention to the chatter of the line behind him. He instead seemed entirely focused on Tooru’s form as he prepared to serve. The captain sighed. 

Yeah. Had Kageyama not been in the team, Kindaichi could have probably become the favorite to replace him as setter once the year ended. But with every week it was becoming apparent that the prodigy was set on taking over for Tooru, and- well, Coach Mori was not the type to let players do what made them happy over what made the team better. 

As Kindaichi received the jump serve with pretty passable form for a first year, a few encouraging cheers rose from the line behind him. The loudest as usual being from Hinata. 

As the setter backtracked to serve again, he sneaked a glance at the shortest first year. 

At least Kindaichi seemed happy with his new found position on the team. Meanwhile, Hinata seemed determined to be a spiker, despite Coach Mori’s quiet insistence that he settle for Libero. 

Tooru bit his lip. The shorty  _ was _ improving nicely. His technique still needed work, but his innate athletic ability was flourishing with his new found reflexes when it came to volleyball. Tooru, who’d overseen some of the current first-string Libero’s training with the second year set to replace him next year and Hinata, had been pleased to see a steady improvement in the ginger boy’s receiving abilities. The first year may not have seemed happy with the arrangement, but at least he was getting better. Coach Mori’s words echoed in the back of his mind.

_ ‘Don’t put too much stock into him. Got it Oikawa?’ _

A spark of spiteful amusement bloomed inside Tooru’s chest.  _ Shorty sure proved Coach wrong.  _ Dissatisfied with his position or not, the kid was clearly determined to play Volleyball, one way or another. Even now, being forced to keep practicing receiving, the only thing giving away the ginger boy’s annoyance at the drill of choice for the day was a slight creasing between his brows and the way in which he buried his fists inside his massive hoodie’s pocket. The graphic of the school mascot’s outline - a large dog with upright ears standing at attention- branded smack in the middle of the front of the garment wrinkled with tension. 

Tooru was surprised to find that he felt… atypically unbothered by the other boy’s concealed annoyance. 

Usually, if a first year like Hinata had made a face like that at any sort of practice alongside Tooru, he would already be on his way to reprimand them for their lack of respect. After all, even though it was his job as captain, any time any of the regulars spent helping the first years was less time that they had left to practice on their own. It was a sacrifice on their part. Hence, it was only natural that the first years be respectful of the time Tooru and any other third year dedicated to helping them. 

However, Hinata had clearly done a good job remaining respectful throughout all the weeks of his coach-assigned practice. Every afternoon, as the team would make their way into the gym as their last class of the day let out, Tooru -who as a third year and as the captain was typically there first- would get to watch as Hinata would march his way to Coach Mori’s bench and politely request to practice spiking, only to be flatly denied. 

The first year never argued. Tooru was thankful that the boy at least seemed mannered enough to know not to try debating his coach’s decision. But still, he would repeat this routine without fail.  _ Every. Single. Practice _ . He never let the string of rejections deter him from trying the next time the team had a practice. It was almost impressive, Tooru decided. By this point nobody on the team could deny that the boy was the most single-minded first-year they had ever seen. The kid put even Hajime’s rare but unreasonable stubbornness to shame. 

One of the other third years had even commented to Tooru that maybe they should just stop him from keeping up his campaign, but Tooru had decidedly told them in no uncertain terms to let things play out. In the moment, he’d cited the value of letting people learn through doing rather than lecturing, but honestly, in the privacy of his own thoughts, the captain wasn’t so sure. 

He…  _ liked _ the boy’s determination. It would probably serve him well in their sport, tension with the coach aside. But he had to admit he failed to see the damage in letting him participate in spiking practices. Normally, first years would be rotated through drills that would help with all possible positions, regardless of their own preferences, but it seemed Coach Mori was determined to get Hinata to concede this fight. 

By now, Tooru guessed, the shrimpy athlete had probably done more receiving practice than any other first year. More often than not, whenever his age group got put on spiker or blocker drills, Coach Mori would conveniently grab their regular Libero -Yogi- and the second year set to replace him, and then have them fetch Hinata for extra Libero drills. By virtue of the strictness of their coach, nobody had questioned the drills yet, but with every passing practice it was becoming increasingly evident that Coach was trying to prove a point here.

Watching the newbie persist in his efforts despite it all was borderline inspirational. 

Tooru didn’t know just when he started silently rooting for the kid, but he certainly was now. His efforts had not really gathered him the goodwill of anybody else as far as Tooru was concerned, but despite his respect for Coach, shrimpy’s determination to accomplish his goals was truly exceptional in Tooru’s eyes. Something about the struggle against the inevitable just seemed so… heart wrenching. 

‘ _ There are people who love a sport with all of their cells… And then, there are prodigies.’ _

Yes, Tooru couldn’t help but encourage the underclassman, even if only in his head, if Hinata was willing to try clawing his way up-stream for the sake of his goals…

Well, who was Tooru to stand in another player’s way?

* * *

As a third year in middle school, Hajime was not under any obligation to pull equipment from storage. After all, ball boy duties were explicitly for firsties and misbehaving second years.

It was only his bad luck that garnered him the title of Oikawa Tooru’s Best Friend Forever, and which made him responsible for helping his idiotic headache of a partner with early morning practices. 

Hajime  _ had  _ considered telling Tooru no. That he would rather get to sleep for an extra hour in the morning rather than walk to school in the early morning just to spike the setter’s tosses until his hand felt raw, even after he’d build up all the callouses his title of Ace implied. 

But as he’d learned early on in the beginning of their “Epic Friendship,” it was practically futile telling Oikawa Tooru  _ No _ when he set his mind on something. 

And so, as usual, Hajime found himself dragging the net poles from storage in order to practice with Tooru that morning. 

“Iwa-chan!” The demonic voice of his oldest friend croned next to him. 

It was absolutely too early for this level of enthusiasm, Hajime thought. Tooru’s innate ability to wake up at insanely early hours and act like he’d never gone a day in his life without a full eight hours was just further proof that at some point the setter had accidentally stumbled across a demon in one of his younger self’s alien hunting expeditions and made a deal. All of his compassion and self-preservation in exchange for a single-minded focus and the ability to wake up ready to be the most annoying person in Hajime’s day. No exceptions.

“Some day you’re gonna be assassinated for being this cheery in the morning, and I hope you know it will always be me paying the hitman.” Instead of taking Hajime’s warning seriously, however, the setter just laughed. 

“But what would you do with your free time if you didn’t have me to look after, Iwa-chan?” Tooru fluttered his lashes at the Ace as they both finished tying the net up on the poles. Hajime thought he'd seen the setter's sister do the same exact expression once. _Honestly..._

“Get some sleep probably.” Now the setter pouted. Hajime bit back the sigh leaving his chest in defeat. Of course Tooru could completely disregard a threat of assassination but then be put off by the prospect of being ignored afterwards. Why was the wing spiker not surprised?

From then, their routine followed as usual. They were at least fifteen minutes into their morning practice when the first regulars started trickling into the gym. Hajime knew it wasn’t normal for middle school teams to practice in the mornings, but when you were in a team with an obsessive nut like Tooru, it was hard to excuse yourself from trying to match the level of effort that their captain demonstrated. 

Hajime imagined offhandedly what he could accomplish if he somehow figured out a way to bottle up the innate charisma and assertiveness Tooru seemed to exude naturally when it came to volleyball. Probably become the president of a small country, at the very least. 

The Kitagawa Volleyball Club captain was probably one of the most awkward, and sometimes just plain rude people Hajime had ever had the pleasure of meeting, but since their first year of junior high, that had changed completely whenever it came to volleyball. 

Now, instead of the kid that used to call Hajime over on the weekends to catch him cicadas, an overly cocky and self-centered athlete stood in his place. Hajime doubted many people were left outside their families that even remembered what Tooru was like before volleyball came into the picture.

But he digressed. Half an hour into the practice, once the setter called for a brief water break, Hajime’s gaze wandered over the faces of the people in the gym for the morning. Most of the regulars were there, he noted with satisfaction. Even a few second years who were on track to take over as regulars once graduation rolled around. 

Good, he thought, glad to see the extra effort of the team wouldn’t fade once Oikawa wasn’t there to pressure the younger team members to come to morning practice anymore. 

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw him. The shrimpy first year that was having a Cold War with Coach Mori. The only first year there that morning. 

Hajime knew Tooru had grown a weird fixation with the kid. Coming in halfway through the semester, after his try out Tooru hadn’t had much to say about the new recruit, but only a few weeks later it had become evident that Tooru was invested in the result of his and Coach Mori’s standoff. 

Hajime hadn’t had much to say about it. He figured the kid would eventually fall back in rank and either quit the team or settle for the coach’s decision. After all, Coach Mori wasn’t somebody one could exactly outlast in this type of situation. 

But one look at Tooru had let Hajime know he probably shouldn’t mention anything. The look in his friends eyes was the same look he got when he dragged Hajime into one of his shitty plans. 

Joining the Volleyball Club together had been one of those. It had taken convincing Hajime to drop his Taekwondo classes and instead join the school’s volleyball team, but somehow Tooru had worn him down. 

Yeah, Hajime had learned his lesson. It was better not to try to fight Tooru’s ideas when he got into one of his crappy moods. 

Either way, the kid was practicing spiking a ball up against the gym’s wall. Hajime took a second to wonder why he hadn’t simply asked to join one of the many clusters of practicing players already on the court, but he supposed it wouldn’t be easy to convince a player to help him go against the coach’s wishes. Hajime himself didn’t know what he’d do if the kid asked for help. He’d rather not think about it. 

Still, the kid was obviously cramped in that corner. The gym was big but the sheer number of individual practices going on left little space for a marginalized first year to practice. Taking a quick look to make sure Tooru was busy -grilling a second year, Hajime should probably go later and make sure he wasn’t being  _ too _ mean- the ace walked up to the corner that the ginger kid had staked his claim on. 

“Morning’” the shrimp jumped at the sound of Hajime’s voice. As he turned to face his upperclassmen, Hajime couldn’t help but be somewhat amazed at how small the firsty seemed from this close. Hajime himself was by no means tall. The Ace was actually the shortest out of all the third years despite also being the oldest, but this kid didn’t even reach past Hajime’s chin! The massive navy blue hoodie he wore over his uniform didn’t do him any favors either, swallowing his frame and covering him all the way down to mid-thigh. 

“A-ah! Uhm, good morning?” The question at the end made something in Hajime’s gut stir. He decidedly ignored it. Maybe he’d had something weird for breakfast.

“You look a little cramped over here. I think i can show you a better place to practice, if you don’t mind.” The ginger kid looked at him with a face of poorly concealed doubt. Taking a look around the gym, it was with great confusion that his gaze made its way back up to the Ace’s eyes. Hajime decided to wait the younger boy out. He’d either let him help, or he’d turn him down. Either way, it was his call to make. 

“...I guess? I don’t see anywhere else though,” deciding to not roll his eyes at a 12 year old, Hajime simply picked up the volleyball at the kid’s feet and made a ‘follow’ gesture with his hand. As the firsty went to grab his stuff from the bench, Hajime’s legs began the old trek he and Tooru had become so familiar with their first year. 

It had been tough. Being friends with such an obnoxious dumbass like Tooru their first year on the team. His best friend, who'd set his heart on becoming a setter but hadn’t yet mastered the intricacies of social interactions, had stirred up the irritation of more than one upperclassman. And of course Hajime had been dragged into their ire as well. 

It had made it hard to find a place for the early morning practice Tooru had been determined to get in each morning. Third years not being particularly welcoming to the couple of uppity first years that had shamelessly outshone the second year setter at the time.

They’d had to find their own practice spot or be forced to concede the morning practices. It was only too bad that Tooru’s body was probably made up of at least 50% spite. Otherwise, Hajime might have been free of the hour and a half of morning practice that Tooru now insisted on.

It had been a janitor of all people who’d told Tooru of the old gymnasium on the other end of the school. Apparently it had been the main and only in-door gymnasium until the school had gone ahead and erected the new gym that they all used for practice. 

The old gym was… underwhelming. The place was still cleaned once a month, but it had mostly been left behind to rot once the state of the art facilities had been built on the opposite side of the campus. It was significantly smaller, and either it had been disconnected from the school’s central air conditioning, or it had never been connected to it in the first place. Now it stood as a relic of the school’s past, back from before the recognition as a sports school had fueled all of the funding and capital to build all sorts of sports facilities.

Hajime thought it was probably only still around in case of a storm or another type of natural catastrophe. The building had almost no windows except for a few floor level ones lined with bars, but the walls were sturdy and had thick steel beams supporting the ceiling. It was stuffy at the best of times and in the winter it was colder than the fridge at Hajime’s house.

However, it had served as the ideal practice spot for him and Tooru in that first year when they’d been all-but-banned from the morning practices. By their second year they’d been welcomed to the main gym, especially once Tooru had cemented his spot as the regular setter for the team despite his lack of seniority. And now, in their third year, they were practically expected to be at the main gym for all the morning practice. So they hadn’t stepped foot in this hidden corner for over a year now. 

Walking this way with the newbie -What was his name again?- was honestly more of a throwback than Hajime had expected. As they approached the building, the cold of early October was already evident. 

It was a good thing the kid wore the hoodie, the upperclassman thought. He would definitely need it.

However, as they got closer to the gym’s entrance, Hajime was shocked to see the doors left open, light coming from inside. Was today a cleaning day? As their steps brought the pair of teammates to the entrance, they could both hear the distinct sound of a ball smacking into the floor. 

Peaking into the gymnasium, Hajime was welcomed by the sight of the stuff of Tooru’s worst nightmares… Other than Ushiwaka, of course. 

Kageyama was standing at one end of the court, a long piece of fabric tied around two rusty volleyball poles clearly serving as a stand in for a proper net. Kageyama took a few steps back, then ran straight into a pretty decent imitation of Tooru’s favorite serve.

Hajime thanked his stars that his captain hadn’t followed them. Tooru would probably throw one of his tantrums if he saw this. 

A whispered “ _ Whoa, _ ” drew the third year’s attention back to the other first year. Hajime decided to ignore the Kageyama issue. It wasn’t really his business if the kid wanted to get in extra practice time or not. Now, back to his reason for coming down here...

“This is the second gymnasium,” If Hajime had been Tooru he probably would have added more showmanship to the introduction to such a nostalgic place for him. But he was definitely not his partner, “It’s not as nice as our usual gym, but there should be plenty of space for you to practice here in the mornings. There should be some spare equipment in the closet over there, but if you need anything feel free to grab stuff out of the first gym,” And with that, the brunette turned to the other firsty, who seemed to just now become aware of their presence.

“Kageyama?” The boy in question tensed and clutched the ball between his hands slightly tighter, looking like one of Hajime’s little cousins when they were caught doing something they shouldn’t. The wing spiker just sighed.  _ Goddamned Firsties,  _ “You’re good to keep practicing here. I was just showing- uh, what’s your name again?” The shortest boy answered with an overly enthusiastic ‘ _ Hinata Shouyou, senpai!’ “...Right.  _ I was just showing  _ Hinata _ over here where this gym was. The other one got a little too crowded so I thought he could probably make the most out of this space. You’re both good to come here in the mornings as long as you can share it.” In truth Hajime didn’t have enough authority to pull an ultimatum like that for them, but he should probably try preventing Kageyama from feeling solely entitled to the space. Or something like that, “Understood?”

A chorus of “Yes senpai!” echoed against the bare walls of the gym. Satisfied, Hajime bade them a good morning practice and left them to their own devices. 

He should probably go back to make sure Tooru at least hadn’t made anybody cry before the bell rang.

* * *

Shouyou hadn’t meant to come to morning practice that day. At least, not formally. He usually got to school right on time for the first period, but then stayed late after classes and practice ended so he could do his own training. 

Since he was on his own for that, it mostly consisted of jumping and spiking drills, or at least as much as one could spike a ball with no one to set for them. It mostly consisted of smacking the ball against the gym walls and trying to meet it mid-jump with a spike. It was… repetitive. 

But since it was becoming increasingly clear that nobody was willing to undermine the coach in this weird disagreement of theirs, he’d have to stick to solo practice for now. There was no other option.

Today, however, he had to go straight home after class to look after Natsu. Their babysitter had called in sick that morning, and his little sister couldn’t be left to her own devices, so Shouyou and his mother had compromised. She’d given him a lift to school earlier than normal so he could squeeze in practice time, and in turn, he’d come straight home after school ended for the day so he could be there for Natsu once she got home for the day. 

He’d been shocked to see the gym not only open, but also filled with most of the upperclassmen. The captain and all of the regulars were there and seemed to have been since much earlier in the morning, judging by the sweat they’d managed to build up. There was no sign of Coach Mori or the assistant coach, however, so he went right into one of the spare bins scattered throughout the floor and grabbed a ball to use in his own practice.

He’d tried being careful as to not let a stray ball wonder in the path of any of the practicing upperclassmen. He didn’t think they’d tell him he couldn’t use the gym for morning practice, but he didn’t want to tempt his luck. If he stayed contained to the little corner they should leave him to his own devices, he reasoned.

The first year was soon proven wrong when not just any upperclassman, but Iwaizumi-senpai, the team’s  _ Ace _ , called him out. 

However, instead of telling him off for using the gym and intruding on practice like he’d assumed he would, Iwaizumi-senpai had instead shown him a second gym, apathetic despite the fact that he’d probably just done the single nicest thing anybody in the team had _ ever  _ done for Shouyou. This other gym was clearly older and not as used, but it was perfect for the practice Shouyou wanted to do. 

He’d been a little scared when Iwaizumi-senpai had approached him. The spiker being an intimidating presence for a first year like Shouyou both on and off the court. While his height wasn’t as towering as some of the other seniors on the team, his presence just seemed to exude quiet strength. It was something Shouyou both admired and feared. 

And so, here he was. Compared to the first Gymnasium, this one seemed eerily silent. The lack of windows probably didn’t help it either, with the absence of a breeze made evident by the building’s musty scent. However, the brick wall painted white right at the other side of the court looked perfect to practice his spikes on. There were no decorations that he’d be risking if he threw the ball too high, and no windows where stray balls could escape through. 

It was perfect.

A hesitant squeak from a pair of sneakers caught his attention.

Almost perfect.

The other boy side eyed Hinata warily as he returned to his serve practice. This was not somebody Shouyou had interacted with yet. He was confident of that. The would-be spiker’s casual-if-apathetic exchanges with his teammates had been mostly lukewarm in temperature at best this far, and so he had not had the opportunity to befriend anybody yet what with his focus on his disagreement with Coach Mori and all. However, this guy was certainly not somebody he’d been on daily greeting terms with, that he was sure of. 

Hajime had called him Kageyama, he thought absentmindedly. The boy was clearly practicing the same serve Oikawa had been trying to perfect in preparation for the upcoming National qualifiers. It looked like he’d been at it for a while now too.

A voice in the back of his brain pointed out how awkward he must look, just standing there staring at the other boy. Swallowing back his nerves, he tucked the volleyball he was carrying under one arm and walked closer to the practicing boy. 

“Uh, hi! I hope you don’t mind me practicing here for today. I promise to stay out of your way!” tacking on a hopefully sincere-looking smile, Shouyou waited for the other boy to turn away from his serves and acknowledge him. And waited. And waited. 

The other boy had clearly heard him in the deafening silence of the gym. Shouyou was being ignored. 

A flood of anger and shame filled him. How dare this asshole not even deign him with a response?! 

Instead of blowing up at the other boy like he wanted to, however, Shouyou bit his tongue and simply turned away, heading towards the wall he’d chosen to practice against. 

If the other boy wanted to ignore him,  _ fine. _ What did it matter that  _ another  _ person in the team was ignoring Shouyou and his wishes anyways?! It wasn’t like Stupid Kageyama could sideline him like the Coach. Why should Shouyou care about this bastard’s opinion of him? 

Rubbing a bit of sweat from his eyes, Shouyou fully turned away from the other boy. The sound of the serves slamming down on the other side of the court kept pounding away, but he paid them no mind. 

The ginger boy was here to become the best goddamned spiker this team had ever seen, whether they wanted him to be or not. He wasn’t gonna let some mean teammate of his stop him.

And if his spikes against the wall were a little bit more aggressive than usual, well, he was all the better off for it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this was a long boi of a chapter. 
> 
> I would like to personally apologize for making Hinata sad. I feel bad, just not bad enough to stop. Poor sunshine child gets to suffer. For now.


	4. Chapter 4

Tobio wasn’t the type to let his mind wander during practice. Quite the opposite, in fact. Whenever Volleyball was involved, he honestly had a hard time ripping his attention away from what he was doing in order to pay attention elsewhere. 

Grandfather said it was because he was a very focused young man. Miwa said it was because they’d accidentally lost his brain and had replaced it with a volleyball instead. 

When the team Ace and another first year had wandered into the old gymnasium Miwa had told him about from her own days at Kitagawa, he’d been scared for a second that maybe he wasn’t supposed to be there. His sister had reassured him multiple times that it should be fine to use it if it was empty, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the first time that following Miwa’s instructions got Tobio in trouble in one way or another. 

His sister was not very nice.

After the Ace had taken his leave, however, Tobio felt his shoulders drop in relief. Thank god he wasn’t in trouble. He still needed to finish practicing this jump serve. 

The other boy that had come to practice in the gym had tried talking to Tobio, but had quickly realized the would-be setter was busy and had left him to his own devices. He seemed very understanding of Tobio’s need to focus. Not like the other first years that always insisted on trying to drag him out of practice to _talk_ of all things.

If Tobio wanted to gossip like the scary old ladies that meet up at the park behind his house, he’d just go to Miwa. At least she could make stories funny.

In any case, they’d both been at their own individual practices for a bit when Tobio took a break from leaping after the ball to drink some water. While he chugged the contents of the bottle -the same one he was using to aim his toss- he caught a glimpse of the other boy’s training. 

The shorter boy was _spiking_. Weird. Based on his height, Tobio would have pegged him as a libero, but he supposed not. The practice seemed to be very focused, nothing like when the first years were made to practice for positions they weren’t interested in playing.

(Even Tobio sometimes felt sick of receiving drills. Receiving serves with overhead receives hurt his _fingers_ , okay? He needed those to toss!)

But the black haired boy wasn’t the best at communicating with his teammates, so no wonder he wasn’t up to date on who wanted to be what position.

Tobio honestly wasn’t sure how to talk to his teammates. Back in his elementary school volleyball club, the other kids hadn’t really known how to interact with Tobio either. He didn’t really get most of the other boys' interest outside of volleyball, and nobody had wanted to talk about the sport anywhere near as long as Tobio had. Frustrated at his teammates lack of focus, he’d asked his grandfather about it once. 

‘ _Well Tobio, the thing is people have lots and lots of interests and hobbies, but every once in a while they find something that they’ll love for the rest of their life.’_

Setting the bottle back down on the end of the court, the black-haired boy returned to his spot.

_‘Most people don’t find those things until they’re waaaaay older though, so while your friends may like volleyball well enough, not all of them are going to stick with it forever.’_

Taking four steps back from the line, he tossed the volleyball high up enough that it cleared the tape’s height by about a meter. 

_‘Like Miwa! She liked volleyball a whole lot, but there are more important things for her, and that’s ok.’_

Jumping after it, the first year brought his palm up like Oikawa-san had done multiple times before. He brought it down, slamming the volleyball right next to the water bottle at the corner of the court. 

_‘You just gotta wait until you’re old enough that the people that like Volleyball just as much as you come around._

Tobio had already made his way through Elementary and was now in Junior High. 

Maybe he just wasn’t meant to find people his age like that. 

* * *

Later that day found Shouyou’s thoughts wandering away from the lecture at the front of the math classroom into what had happened that morning. 

He was still a little (a _lot_ ) star-struck that an upperclassman had taken the time out of their own practice just to show him a secret spot to practice at! And not just any upperclassman, but _Iwaizumi-san_ ! Their _Ace_! And he was sooooooo nice too!

Shouyou had already cemented his admiration of the upperclassmen long ago during the first practice game he got to witness between Kitagawa and another school. It had been a simple practice match, but watching his seniors wipe the court with the other team like it was nothing had lit a spark of admiration inside Shouyou’s chest that had not dimmed since. 

And how could it? When they had such a cool team roster?

Iwaizumi-san was a fearsome ace, having an unusually strong spike for a middle schooler. During their games it was a staple watching him leap right up into a block only to slam his way right through the twiggy arms of the other team. It was like watching those cool videos of martial artists on Youtube where they’d punch and kick through increasingly harder materials. Shouyou wondered if Iwaizumi-san could slam a volleyball hard enough that it would break through one of those wooden boards. If somebody could, he decided, it’d be the Kitagawa Ace.

And whenever blockers _did_ manage to stop him, it was more often than not Yoshito-senpai, the team’s Libero, who’d save the ball. Hinata may have been forced into more libero training than he could ever want in his entire life, but still he could not begrudge the skill of the team’s best defense. 

Off the court Yoshito-senpai was a kind and very soft-spoken person. Oftentimes shying away from some of the teams louder shenanigans. He was very kind and did his best to make the forced receiving practices as pleasant as possible for Shouyou, sometimes even cracking jokes that he thought would amuse the first year. His execution was terrible, but to Shouyou the mere attempt of the libero was enough to fill his chest with appreciation and sincere gratitude at his teammate’s attempts at soothing his feelings.

In the court, however, the other boy was a menace. He was still as soft spoken and unassuming as ever, but he’d weaponize this until he seemed to almost sneak his way right into the path of the ball. It was always amusing to Shouyou, watching from the sidelines, how honestly shocked the other teams always seemed by the way Yoshito-senpai could just suddenly make his presence known by bumping what was about to be a service ace right into the hands of their captain.

And _oh, their Captain._

Shouyou had many crushes before Kitagawa. 

When he was eight he remembered seeing the girl that would come by every weekend to sell Shouyou’s mother her family’s produce. She had a red truck full of crates filled with different kinds of grains and vegetables and other stuff. Her hair was the prettiest shade of gold, and it used to shine under the afternoon sun in a way that never failed to make Shouyou’s heart do its best to beat right out of his chest. He would wait every sunday right by his bedroom window just so he could watch as she tried to haggle with his mother over a carton of eggs.

When he was ten he remembered joining his mom in watching one of her reality TV shows because he’d caught a glimpse of one of the protagonists. A man with perfectly coiffed hair and the prettiest smile he’d ever seen. He’d later learn those cute little dents on his cheeks were called dimples. Whenever Shouyou saw them in his smile, his chest would feel heavy, like he was in bed and there were too many blankets on top of him. Heavy and warm. 

At the start of the year, when he’d tagged along with Izumi to Koji’s soccer team tryout, as he watched his new friend direct all of that brashness and intensity of his unto the ball of the sport he loved, he remembered feeling his hands go all sweaty and checks heat up like a teapot. After Koji had come back from the field all sweaty and content from doing a good job, Shouyou couldn’t even muster the nerve to meet his friend’s eye, much less direct him his word. The feeling had passed by the next morning, but his appreciation for the looks of his second ever Junior High friend had persisted until he’d come to Kitagawa. 

And then, on his first day at Kitagawa, it had been Oikawa-senpai, with his long eyelashes and his perfect hair and mellifluous-if-mean laugh that had made his insides go all gooey. He’d been a little bit too nervous on his first day, but the other boy’s presence had gone a long way in distracting him from his fear. 

He hadn’t had a chance to talk to the setter one on one since he first joined. Outside of drills that the upperclassman ran for the first years collectively, they hadn’t really interacted. But Shouyou didn’t need that. 

Just getting to watch the other boy during games was thrilling enough for the first year. The way Oikawa-senpai seemed to always be miles and miles ahead of everybody else on the court, even his own team, knowing exactly which spiker to set to and how, well, it made Shouyou yearn to be a spiker even more. 

His fantasies of being an Ace now always seemed to feature Oikawa-senpai as the setter. Shouyou’s eyes seemed to move on their own during games, never missing the captain’s powerful-if-erratic jump serve, or the way he’d spring as he set a perfect toss for his spikers. 

Yes, his admiration for his upperclassmen was already a settled if burning flame in the center of his chest. He may not have found the friendships he’d been yearning for at Kitagawa, but he certainly wasn’t lacking in people to admire. Not in the slightest. 

And perhaps, that was enough. Maybe he didn’t need to be friends with his team after all. Maybe just knowing his seniors were the very best players he’d ever met could be enough for Hinata.

After all, what was a better reason to pour his entire heart and soul into Volleyball if not to rend tribute to the seniors that had gone out of their way to make Shouyou feel welcome?

_Yeah_ , thought the first year as the bell marked the end of math class, _no better reason_.

* * *

Shouyou buried his hands inside his massive hoodie’s sleeves as he observed the match happening in the court before him. 

The team was at yet another practice match, this time against another powerhouse school, Chidoriyama.

From his spot by the courtside, the first year felt his gaze follow the same path as usual. 

By now, he thought, it felt almost instinctual how he’d carefully take his time observing the players. Not just of his team, but the other school too. 

He didn’t remember how exactly it had started. Perhaps it had a little something to do with the harmless bets he tended to overhear some of the second years make while they all watched practice games. In order to pass the time, the upperclassmen seemed to set up bets regarding the game. Things like which spiker would score the most points, how many kills would get stopped by the blockers, how many service aces Oikawa-senpai could get in a row.

Shouyou, being perfectly aware of his place in the team hierarchy compared to the second-string second years, had not even dared to try to join in on the betting, but he’d enjoyed comparing his own guesses to the ones his upperclassmen would voice. He was pretty terrible at it, but he thought he was getting better with every practice game, and it was certainly one way to pass the time. 

Down in the court, he could see Iwaizumi-senpai getting ready to serve. The third year’s powerful jump more than making up for his height compared to the net. 

Shouyou felt his calfs and knees flex underneath the rafter he was on. A pang of _want_ suddenly dropping into his stomach. _Oh_ , what he’d _give_ for an opportunity on the court.

He wheeled his eyes to the other side of the court, where the Chidoriyama libero bumped Iwaizumi-senpai’s meanest serve. A cheer went off from the other end of the bleachers, the other team cheering their libero on. Shouyou couldn’t help but smile. Chidoriyama sounded like a very nice team.

Back on the Kitagawa side of the court, Oikawa-senpai got ready to serve the moment one of their players managed to stop Chidoriyama’s spike. If it was anybody else, Shouyou would have thought it a bold move, to just assume the spike would be bumped, but since it was Oikawa-senpai he trusted that their captain would know exactly what was about to happen.

Surely enough, their middle blocker was already shouting one touch as the ball went right to the back of the court. Then there was Yoshito-senpai, already stepping right into the path of the ball, and passing it right towards where Oikawa-senpai had been standing all along. Shouyou swallowed back a sigh. 

It just wasn’t _fair_ , a part of his brain screamed, why couldn’t _he_ be the one down there, making a leap to spike the carefully set toss right into the other team’s court? It physically pained him having to stand by and watch as other people got to literally live out his dreams, Oikawa-senpai and all, as he was told to wait and to settle down. 

He carefully bit back the groan of frustration building in the back of his throat. This was _fine._ He’d get his opportunity to shine _next year_ , like everybody else. First years didn’t get to play. That was the rule. 

But would they force him to play libero? He wondered with a pang of anxiety.

He wasn’t sure how he’d feel if they let him play but only as libero. He knew himself well enough that he was certain he wouldn't turn down any opportunity to be on the court, but it certainly wouldn’t be the role he’d like to play. 

He grit his teeth. He’d just have to show everybody, coach Mori included, what a mistake it had been pigeonholing him into the libero position. They’d all see. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I'm in the tail end of my finals weeks and it's been difficult finding time to write, even if that's all I wanted to do. 
> 
> Anyways, the chapter was turning out to be so long that I ended up splitting it so at least be reassured that most of the next chapter is already written?
> 
> And thanks to everybody that has commented! Know that even if I don't respond to your comment that they still fuel me and make me want to write even more!


	5. Chapter 5

Their next team practice was, once again, geared towards whipping their defense up to par, courtesy of Oikawa-senpai’s monster serve. 

Tobio’s eyeballs seemed glued to the other setter’s form, trying to soak up every little detail and form. The captain’s serve record may have been spotty at times due to the sheer unpredictability of a jump serve, but there was no denying that the third year had absolutely polished his form to be as perfect as Tobio had ever seen.

It was easy to see why people were so certain that Oikawa-senpai really was the best middle school setter in the prefecture. Even compared to other powerhouse schools they’d had matches against so far this year, there was never another setter that surpassed, or even matched, the Kitagawa captain. He was on a level of his own, Tobio thought giddily, and he got the privilege to watch his practices every afternoon. 

At the start of the year he had spared a few thoughts to lamenting not going to the number one middle school in the prefecture for volleyball, Shiratorizawa Junior High, but any regrets had quickly been swept out of existence the moment he saw Oikawa-senpai play for the first time. 

The other setter had all of the qualities Tobio sought to acquire himself. He was a strong player, being able to dominate a match and single handedly lead the team to victory when they needed it. He also had an incredible sense for the game, always knowing what the other team would do next and having a perfect counterattack ready to go. 

It blew the first year’s mind sometimes, when Oikawa senpai would walk off the court during a time out and demonstrate a deeper understanding of the game than anybody with a vantage point of view on the stands. Even while in thick of it the captain never lost sight of the bigger picture and the other team. He sort of reminded Tobio of his grandfather back when he was still coaching. The older man would always show off to Tobio by calling on players standing behind him for flubbing a pass or slacking off during drills. It had never failed to spook the ladies of the team and to bring an amused giggle to Tobio’s lips.

There was a clear distinction, however, between ji-chan and Oikawa-senpai’s mood during practices. 

Tobio’s ji-chan always seemed genuinely excited to be playing or spectating a game. It was one of Tobio’s favorite things about going to volleyball games with his grandfather. It was impossible _not_ to feel excited about everything when the older man would project a cloud of infectious energy around himself. It never failed to drag everybody around him to the same level of excitement. 

Oikawa-senpai’s aura was different. 

They both had the same intensity and focus when it came to the sport. Their eyes seemed to alway be right on the tail of the ball, only straying to glance at the players getting ready to hit or receive the little leather ball. But Tobio’s captain seemed to have this hunger in his gaze that he’d never perceived from his ji-chan. The older boy never exuded the joy that his grandfather did, but his focus and determination dissipated off of him and into the rest of the court in a similar way. 

If Tobio’s grandfather was like a sports commentator with the way his enthusiasm for the game showed and impacted those around him, then the captain was more like a general, his ambition paving the way for those around him to reach their own goals. 

Tobio wondered if this had anything to do with the positions they played. Oikawa-senpai, as a setter and team captain, had to take a leadership role while simultaneously setting an example for the rest of the team. He also had to somehow juggle the strategic aspect of the game. Perhaps it wasn’t surprising that all of this amounted to a razor sharp dedication in the older boy. All of those roles didn’t leave a lot of room for slacking. 

Ji-chan, on the other hand, had been a blocker back when he still played, and was now a retired coach. His approach, while seasoned by the sheer amount of time he’d spent immersed in the sport, had largely been marked by the time he’d spent off the court and on the bench, guiding the team from the sidelines and letting things play out. Tobio couldn’t help but think that maybe his grandfather’s joy was a direct result of not actively participating in the game any more. Maybe it just wasn’t possible to be a player on the court while also being that carefree at the same time. 

Tobio shifted his weight back as Oikawa-senpai approached his serving position. Their court side was full of the first years, each placed in a spot as if they were playing a 1v6 match against the captain. 

It was more intimidating than he thought it would be. The third year’s stance was strong and undaunted by the six first years, confident on his own serve. They all knew there had only been a few times where first years had managed to receive the captain’s jump serve. Tobio didn’t think today would be any different.

He was standing in the front, middle of the court. To his left was Kindaichi, shoulders hunched forward a tad too far, but his gaze was stuck to the ball. To Tobio’s right was Tashiro, who had a mean spike whenever he managed to hit the captain’s or Tobio’s own sets, but usually ended up missing and tangling himself up in the net. Directly behind Tobio was Kunimi, who he’d bet was slumped over in a poor imitation of a ready position, and to Kunimi’s own left was Hashikami who seemed as nervous as ever. 

Yes, none of them seemed to be any more ready to receive the captain’s serve than they were the last time they tried this drill out. Tobio took a moment to make sure of his own radius of defense and then sighted. He didn’t think they were going to have any significant improvement today. 

As Oikawa-senpai leapt up in the air and made eye contact with his first target of the day, Tobio followed the gaze only to land right on a mop of ginger hair.

The volleyball gods, deciding to once again grant the whims of their star setter and actually let the insanely strong toss land inside the line, seemed to lead the incoming ball right to the feet of the shortest first year. Tobio’s insides clenched in frustration, already anticipating the outcome. 

Only for his certainty to banish the second the other first year sank down right into the path of the ball, his eyes narrowed down on the incoming projectile, and his throat visibly swallowing back saliva. The ball and his forearms seemed to meet right in the middle, as if they’d been reaching out for each other. 

Then the ball immediately ricocheted off of the forearms and up, up into the gymnasium ceiling, then slowly began it’s decent right about a step to Kageyama’s left. 

_N_ _ice receive_ slipped out of the setter’s shell shocked mouth, followed by an instinctual shift into the ball’s new path. He set the ball perfectly, only for Tashiro to miss the toss by about a quarter of an inch and a mile. Tobio would have already been seething away at the spiker if he himself hadn’t been equally as caught off guard by the whole thing.

By the time Tobio was turning around to look at their acting Libero, the rest of the first years had already dog-pilled the other boy, swallowing his tiny frame in their own, larger ones. There were hands ruffling and tugging at the shorter boy’s hair and hoodie, and the soft sound of giggles could be heard over the roar of the bigger boys. 

“Shouyou-kun! I knew you could do it!” Instead of coming from the rambunctious first years, however, the voice came from the other end of the gymnasium, where the team’s first string libero was already jogging over from. The first year in question popped his head out of the pileup only to flash the third year the world’s toothiest smile.

“Thank you so much Yoshito-senpai! You were right! I just needed to account for the recoil!” The Libero’s hand settled on the ginger boy’s mess of curls and tangled them further than the other years had already done.

Tobio knelt and grabbed at the volleyball as it lazily rolled towards his feet from where it had landed after the missed toss. He kneaded his fingers into the soft leather for a lack of a better thing to do. He thought the ginger had been a spiker, and that his placement as the libero for the day had just been the coach trying to cover for a lack of a first year libero. The first year’s brows knit in confusion. 

“ _Oh_? Should I be worried about my best serve being stopped just by ‘accounting for the recoil’ Yoshi-kun?” The voice of their captain didn’t sound mad at least. Only curious at the new development.

As their libero tried to assuage the captain’s dramatics, Tobio turned back to the pileup as it slowly started to come apart, celebrations of the rally seemingly done for the moment. 

Soon enough they were all back in position to continue the derailed practice. Unsurprisingly the first years still ended up seceding the majority of the points to Oikawa-senpai’s serve whenever the captain managed to make it land within the court bounds, but Hinata had managed to receive the serve cleanly two more times before the practice ended for the day. 

Even once practice had let out for the day, the rest of the team’s first years seemed insistent on congratulating their newest addition for a job well done. 

One first year in particular seemed reluctant to let go of the libero just yet, however. Instead Kindaichi began shaking the shorter boy like a rag doll, “THAT WAS SO COOL!!! I didn’t know it was possible for one of us first years to even meet that monster serve like you just did! Nevermind pass it straight to Kageyama! That was a whole A pass!” The ginger boy blushed to the roots of his hair.

“But it wasn’t an A pass?” Tobio couldn’t help but correct. Did Kindaichi not know the requirements for an A pass? Did he forget? 

The spiker in question just turned to glare at Tobio, “Don’t mind him Hinata, he’s just being a bastard. What you did was amazing!” The blush on their libero’s face seemed to be settling in permanently onto the boy’s features. 

“T-thank you Kindaichi-kun! Kageyama’s right though, none of my receives were A passes,” the boy seemed to fiddle with the sleeves of his hoodie, tugging at some of the freyd threads.

“Well, since it was one of the captain’s serves I think this qualifies! And you can just call me Yuutaro!” The shorter boy’s eyes seemed to sparkle at the permission.

“Ah- ok! Yuutaro it is then! And you can call me Shouyou!”

“Nice! Shouyou you’re gonna rock the socks off of the other libero’s next year I swear!” 

Tobio was surprised to note the smaller boy’s sudden tension at the statement. Was it not a good compliment?

“Uhm, yeah, well. Yuutaro, you know I want to be a spiker, right? A-and the next libero is going to be Sota-san. He’s been waiting for two years, you know!” 

“But Shouyou you’re so short! And look at how good you are as a libero! If you focus on your Libero practice I’m sure we can convince coach Mori to let you sub for Sota-senpai every once in a while! And by third year we could be unstoppable! With you leading the defense against all the other teams in prefecture!” Although Kindaichi’s eyes seemed to shine at the thought, Hinata seemed to barely be holding back a recoil of distaste at the idea. 

“Give it a rest Kindaichi,” the tired voice of Kunimi chimed in from the other end of the locker room. Slipping a fresh shirt over his form, the other first year added, “he’s short not stupid. Just give him time to get used to the idea.” 

Kindaichi’s smile stretched at the other boy’s comment, “Ah yeah, of course! My bad!” Letting go of the disheveled ginger, the bigger first year finally turned away from the boy and towards his own stuff, “Just give it a thought Shouyou! It can’t be that bad becoming the star Libero of a powerschool, can’t it?” The shorter boy only answered the blocker with a wobbly smile. 

Deeper into the locker room, between the rest of the third years, the captain chimed in loudly, “Good job today, Chibi-kun! I wanna see you stop at least half of my serves in a set by the end of the year, okay?” grabbing his things and striding past the cluster of first years by the entrance, the setter bent his head down slightly and spoke directly into the ginger boy’s ear,

“And I can’t wait to see you spike a set one of these days.”

* * *

Shouyou hadn’t lied when he’d said that the morning practice was supposed to be a one time thing.

But then, the next day, trying to practice in a full gymnasium after the coach had let them go had felt downright stifling compared to the relative solitude and vastness of the second gym. 

He’d tried seeing if he could simply take his afternoon solo practices to the older building, but it was occupied by the girls’ basketball team. There was no way he could use it outside of the early morning. 

In the end, he’d managed to finagle a pretty good deal with his mother over the whole mess, if he said so himself. He’d get his extra practice in the mornings, followed by the mandatory team practices directly after class. Then, instead of sticking around until closing, he’d just head home, babysit Natsu while he got his homework done, and then get paid the same his mother had been spending on a babysitter, which was not an insignificant amount of money for a middle schooler.   
  


He didn’t have anything specific he wanted to spend his new income on yet, but he’d think of something eventually. And now he got to practice with practically all the space he could ever want! Rather than be in a cramped corner of the gym! Wins all around. 

Well, there was the matter of Kageyama. 

Shouyou hadn’t even connected the dots between the bastard at the gym that hadn’t deigned to pay him a minimum of respect and the bastard Kindaichi had complained about on more than one occasion until the team practice that afternoon. He supposed it made sense. Kageyama already had a reputation for being a rude guy. It wasn’t surprising that he would be like that even outside of team practices.

It had actually assuaged Shouyou’s hurt feelings, even if just a little. The other first year probably hadn’t been rude _purely_ as an insult to him. He was just like that with _everybody_ apparently. That little fact had come a long way in smoothing out Shouyou’s hurt ego. 

And it had certainly made it easier to make the choice to continue going to morning practices at the old gymnasium. 

He hadn’t felt like trying to talk with the other boy, however. 

Intentionally rude or not, Kageyama hadn’t shown the least bit of inclination to wanting to interact with Shouyou during their morning practices, nevermind doing practice drills together. And Shouyou was not expecting the other to be any more understanding of his own goals than anybody else on the team either. So he settled for sticking to his solo drills, rotating through the few he knew of until he grew sick of them, then did them some more.

As long as the other boy stayed in his share of the gym and didn’t bother Hinata during his practice, he didn’t see any problem with the arrangement. 

He’d managed to go through a full two weeks of this routine undisturbed without anything more than a mild nod of acknowledgement in the mornings as a form of greeting, when the other boy apparently decided to break this unspoken code of conduct. 

They’d been doing their own drills as usual. Hinata was trying out some solo pepper drills, having even bought some painters tape from home to mark where he should be slamming the ball against on the wall, then trying to dig and toss it back up. It wasn’t the easiest of drills considering he had to chase the ball right after every attempt, but at least it was conducive to his fantasy of, well, being on the front line. 

He’d picture himself, leaping up, up, spiking the ball into a terrifying set of blockers (who always seemed to look like Coach Mori actually,) but just when it seemed like he would fail, he’d go right back down and dig his own blocked spike up himself. His teammates behind him would roar in a cheer like the other day and-

“You’re doing it wrong.”

The voice behind him startled him enough that he didn’t even reach for the falling ball. Instead, dropping into a crouch on the floor, he twisted his upper body until he could see Kageyama behind him. 

The other boy was standing by the bench, holding a bottle on one hand and a towel on the other. His eyes looked focused but apathetic, like he could see every part of Shouyou, even his insides, but just simply could not be bothered to care about what he was looking at. 

Shouyou blinked. Then his brain caught up to the other boy’s words.

_What the hell…_

_No words for over two weeks and he thinks he can break the silence with a CRITIQUE? Who the hell does he think he is?_

A wash of static filled his brain, sounding vaguely reminiscent of the last couple of weeks’ worth of his team’s unsolicited comments. 

_‘You are_ perfect _for the position of libero, Shouyou-kun.’_

_‘Have you considered focusing your time on more libero practice? It’s just that splitting all your training can’t be good for you, you know?’_

_‘You’re just no Iwaizumi-senpai, Hinata. Even if you nailed timing and jumping you still don’t have the frame to spike a ball past a wall of blockers.’_

_‘It must be nice not having to worry about your height. I keep drinking milk hoping I’ll grow a few more centimeters before the Spring Qualifiers, but it's gross.’_

_‘We have_ enough _spikers. We_ need _more liberos.’_

His lips formed into a snarl before he knew what was happening.

“And who are _you_ to tell me what I’m doing wrong, huh?!” Shouyou almost didn’t recognize his own voice. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry at somebody. Shocked at his own outburst, he tried to slow his heavy breathing in order to calm himself down. 

Before him the black haired boy was left standing by the bench, frozen. A shell-shocked look at Shouyou’s explosion. He blinked rapidly, keeping tight grips on the bottle and towel. Seeing the sincere shock on his face Shouyou tried to swallow back his own anger. 

He was just so _tired_ with the team’s comments. He _knew_ he wasn’t some natural born ace. Was perfectly aware of his lacking build. He didn’t _care_ though. He just needed _somebody_ to give him a chance and let him play the type of volleyball _he_ wanted. Being a libero wasn’t bad per say, but Shouyou could feel it wearing him and his spirit down, slowly but surely. 

Shouyou _swore_ that if only somebody would _listen_ to him and just give him the time of day he could do it. He could show them all. But with the increasingly more and more focused libero practices it felt like his dreams of spiking were running a three legged race while his libero training got to compete with a bicycle. It just wasn’t gonna happen if things stayed like this. And Shouyou just didn’t have it in himself to self-sabotage his libero training. Not when Yoshito-senpai worked so hard on it just to help Shouyou. He couldn’t do that to the nice third-year. 

Kageyama, who was still frozen by the bench, probably didn’t even consider any of this though. It wasn’t fair to take out Shouyou’s frustration on the other boy. He sighted and bowed his head down in shame, scratching at the back of his neck in sincere embarrassment at his meltdown.

“I mean-… I’m sorry! Please forget about all of that! I shouldn’t have screamed at you for trying to help. I’m just not feeling very well. Uhm,” The other boy didn’t say anything, however. Just continued to stare at Shouyou with a deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes, “You don’t have to talk to me at all if you don’t want to! It’s your right to practice on your own. Ah, please accept my apology? I won’t bother you again.” Not waiting to hear the other boy’s response, he went to collect the stray volleyball that had wandered off while he apologized. 

His nails dug into his palms, leaving crescent shaped dents in the skin. He couldn’t let himself lose his cool like that. It wasn’t gonna ingratiate him to the rest of the team at all, and he was _just_ starting to feel included by the rest of the first years. He swallowed a lump building on his throat.

And Kageyama didn’t deserve that. The setter’s comment was annoying, sure, but it didn’t mean Shouyou could just let little things get to him. He was going to be _better_ damnit! He was gonna show everybody how wrong they were, fair and square!

Turning to look back at the setter, Shouyou only saw the other boy already turned back towards the court, getting ready to continue serving. Guess the bastard didn’t care all that much about Shouyou’s opinion of him, huh? The ginger boy couldn’t even bring himself to resent the other boy for not caring. He deserved this. 

Picking up the ball, Shouyou turned back and made his way back up to his spot by the wall. He stood there for a minute, thinking. After trying to solve the problem on his own for a bit, he conceded. A defeated sigh leaving his lips. 

“Uhm, Kageyama-san, could you show me what I was doing wrong?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SORRY it took me this long to come out with the chapter! Special apology to Jani123 who I let down by not having this ready when I said I would. I'm sorry I lied :(
> 
> I actually don't feel like this chapter is ready. Like, it could have definitely gone for at least an extra scene. But I am a sucker for attention and the comments that a new update bring give my poor brain a shot of serotonin, so I hope you enjoy this update even tho I really want to drag it back to the google doc and add like 4 more pages to it, lol. 
> 
> Anyways, my "How bad can I make Hinata feel" saga continues, altho I think this update had a new, kinda more hopeful tone than the previous ones. But I promise the general angst shall come to an end soon enough. My dumb brain keeps jumping me with cute and fun ideas for the distant future of this fic, so I have to beat them back with a stick cuz we're not ready for that yet. Soon tho...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm confident that i've been heavily inspired by many, many great fics that are already out there. If you feel like I've over-borrowed from any fic in particular let me know and I'll tag it.


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